The Young Master, Aglow
by thelostopportune
Summary: First Nightmare: When the day comes that I lose everything I own, at least that one glow should never go out. Sebastian's POV.


**This is the first part of Sebastian's POV series. I intend to make an introductory story of some sort for every major character POV that I write, in which for this one is called _The Young Master, Prologue._ I decided to make separate works because it is not mandatory to read one before the other, although I do highly recommend it. I would like to give special thanks to Chained Princess. I had been blessed to be welcomed warmly by such kind people in this site.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji or any of its characters.**

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"…is truly a pity... change your mind… not too late."

I hear a man's voice.

"You know the answer…"

 _Ahh… this one I know too well_. The voice of the second man belongs to the young master. He seems to be speaking with another man whose voice sounds ominously familiar.

" _He_ won't be happy when _he_ finds out."

The voice is becoming clearer, his words more distinguishable. I realize that my eyes had been closed as my vision begins to adjust to the dimly lit room with only a small flame illuminating the entire space, casting shadows of two individuals and other trivial objects about the room. I can see the shape of the young master standing a few feet away, facing a man of considerable height.

"It will be too late when he does," the master says indifferently. I have no recollection of the master having business with someone in private. It has come to my attention that he had been keeping secrets from me more frequently as of late.

The man turns away from the master and walks thoughtfully towards the brick wall, each step echoing inside the deafeningly quiet room. His dark coat flutters in the air behind him despite the absence of wind.

"Tell me, little Earl," begins the man as he playfully runs his fingers on a peculiar object leaning against the wall. "Why do you insist on proceeding through…such lengths for that _man_?" A hint of cynicism lingers around his voice. It appears that a third man is the subject of their conversation, of which I still have no knowledge.

"He's in this predicament because of me. I'm civil enough not to involve him in this unnecessary conflict," replies the Earl, his exposed eye following the man whose hand had stopped moving.

"'Civil'?" repeats the man as his body twists in an ungraceful manner, unable to contain his erratic laughter that echoed eerily. When he regains his composure, he continues, "Oohhh… my… my stomach hurts. You're really good at making me laugh when you're not trying. But I'm afraid a simple laughter is not enough as a payment for this kind of service, little Earl."

I now recognize the man. His boisterous manner of laughing and his eccentric method of doing business are unmistakable. Nonetheless, I still cannot fathom what brought the young master to him. The two are silent. The man resumes tracing different parts of the odd object that hides behind the shadows.

"You may keep my body."

The candle's flame sways at his response. Their shadows dance at the disturbance of the light. Meanwhile, the older male freezes where he stands. Completely confused, my mind orders my body to move next to the young master who is staring directly at the back of the man in front of him, completely unaware of my presence. He stands tall, his posture dignified, his determination unwavering.

The man slowly turns to look at the master, his face hidden behind his long hair the color of the full moon under the candlelight's glow. The master returns his gaze, his expression unchanged. The man begins to take exaggeratedly careful steps, as if walking on a tight rope.

"I see the way you look at me," declares the young master as the man continues to approach him, his tone innocent and consoling. "And yet you see another man. My predecessor did something very cruel to you." The man stops before the slender figure, his hair slides down his shoulders as he looks at the smaller man from above.

He extends his arms and lightly brushes the back of his hands on the youth's face, drawing circles on the soft cheeks with his thumb. "Yes…" whispers the man, his voice breaking. "You look so much alike…" He lifts the little chin to meet his eyes, and continues, "Except this part here." He slides his thumb underneath the youth's eyepatch, delicately removing it from the small head. I watch as the piece of cloth falls quietly on the ground.

My mind feels like it is melting, as if flowing out of my head leaving a burning trace of the inexplicable. The young master is virtually within reach, so close that I could almost feel his breath. Except I cannot. I cannot feel my surroundings, much less my own body. I am robbed of my physical form, left only with my thoughts to claim as mine. I am in between benevolence and trial, allowed to see my master, but prohibited to be.

"You've grown, Earl," says the man, running his fingers on the young man's lustrous hair the color of the midnight ocean, shifting away a few strands to get a better view of the face. "It makes me happy to see you show such compassion for someone, even though it's for _that man_."

The tall figure retrieves his hands, letting his arms fall beside him. Taking a final look at the master, he turns around and walks back towards the wall, his coat flowing behind him. He grabs the same peculiar object from the shadow, giving it a firm swing.

If I am to name this emotion I feel at this moment, I would call it fear. Despite the absence of my physical being, I can feel the violent throbbing of my phantom chest accelerating. I watch as the man walks back towards the young master, holding on to the end of a long piece of bone connected to the spine of a human skeleton. Ribs branch out from the spine, the backbone ending with a skull crowned with thorns. Gleaming at the back of the skull is an elongated, double-edged sword in the shape of a crescent moon.

The man mouths a few phrases to the master, but my thoughts were much louder. Summoning every ounce of my demonic prowess is like a human trying to levitate an object with his mind –utterly futile.

"…did not expect for the Earl to go this far. I would love to see the look on his face if he finds out."

" _When_ he finds out. I will make sure he lives."

 _Master, please… What's happening?!_

"My, my. Such devotion. Do I detect… passion? And what about him?"

"I'm sure he'll be ecstatic when you deliver him my soul."

 _Your soul?! Master, what-_

"I really wonder about that."

"What doubts do you have?"

"You know exactly _what_."

"A demon cannot _feel._ "

 _THAT'S NOT TRUE! I-_

"You're too cruel, little Earl."

The man lifts the object above his head, the blade glowing at the light's touch. The disturbance in the air causes the flame to flicker in anger, shadows blending into chaotic figures. "Any last words?" pries the man, all humor lost in his voice. As he swings the object towards the small figure, the young man lets out an airy chuckle, delivering his final words.

"That expression does not suit you, after all."

The taller man's hair explodes gently in the air, briefly exposing his face. Gleaming water drowns the golden flames in his emerald eyes, overflowing down to his cheeks. An old scar that runs across his face disrupts his otherwise handsome features. His lips part, allowing two words to escape.

"Forgive me…"

Before another desperate thought escape me, a dark mass engulfs the whole space, consuming everything in its path followed by the sound of a roaring thunder. Darkness fills the place that even light cannot enter. I look around in a frantic search for the master, the deafening roar growing louder causing a piercing vibration in the air.

I am beginning to lose my mind which is the only thing I have left. I allow myself a second to recollect my thoughts when I notice the sensation of a rhythmic pulse inside me. I look down and still see nothing, and yet I feel a warmth that boils every fiber in my being, giving me back a sensation I thought I had lost forever.

The booming noise stops, leaving a trail of low rumbling. As I clear my mind and quiet my thoughts, I can feel a constant beat humming from within as the warmth continues to spread. Instinctively, I remove a few layers of dark mass, as if undoing a folded blanket.

There at the center is the source of the heat, letting out a quiet sigh. The purring heartbeat begins to spread throughout the darkness that envelops us. The music is so evident that even the void becomes alive.

Ever so gently, I begin to retrieve the night that claimed the light, slowly revealing the person from head to toe. His eyes are hidden behind his paper-thin eyelids, his breathing slow and even, his porcelain skin unscathed.

I stand next to his bed, looking down at him from above. How I wish for the morning to come, so I can drown in those eyes, once again. To hear that voice speaking to _me_ , giving _me_ orders. Never again will I take a single moment for granted, never again will I leave his side. And I shall keep this little flame aglow that even the nothingness cannot hide him, that even the void remains alive.


End file.
